Wonderful
by elphabathedelirious32
Summary: Why did Elphaba originally decide to change sides during 'Wonderful' What was she thinking?
1. Breakdown

A/N: Okay, so my friends and I were talking about how in the play, without the background context of the book, and also the behind the scenes book called the Grimmerie, the 'Wonderful' scene is kind of, well, random. Elphaba just abruptly goes over to the Wizard's side. So I decided to write a random fanfiction about it. This is chapter 1, I don't know if I'll continue…

Disclaimer: Not mine. The dialogue is, except Elphaba's speech near the end, is not mine either, but from the play.

_I'm not going crazy, _I tell myself. _I'm talking to myself, but that doesn't mean I'm crazy. I have a right to be crazy, anyway._

Three years. I haven't spoken to anyone in three years, until Nessa and Boq an hour ago, and look how well _that _turned out. Another casualty of these cursed powers…poor, poor Boq. They were the first people I had talked to since I left Glinda here, in the Emerald City. In three years, I haven't felt a human touch.

Silently, I place my broomstick against the great golden Oz-head, trying not to lose myself in memories of the young, naïve, innocent- yes, happy, even- girl I was the last time I was here. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just a girl, still, a bit more naïve than I ought to be, despite everything. I feel like crying- I'm only twenty-one and this is my life. I have barely spoken in three years. My voice would be awful and raspy with disuse if I hadn't kept it alive by singing some stupid song about rainbows that I made up once. I'd die if anyone knew, isn't that silly? I'm a wanted 'criminal,' a 'terrorist,' a wicked freaking witch, and I'm worried about people hearing me sing. Perverse things, people.

_Focus, Elphaba, focus._ I _am_ going crazy. _Shut up, Elphie, the monkeys, the monkeys. Find them. _ I turn and suddenly-

"I knew you'd be back," the voice booms from the great head, nearly giving me a heart attack. I clutch my ears at the sudden onslaught of sound. The Wizard steps out from the great head, and I find myself wondering what his real name is. I know all too well what it is to lose your name, to become a sort of symbol, an empty caricature, one-dimensional. To most of Oz, I am not Elphaba Thropp, shy, awkward, green girl who reads and talks too much, with her little sarcastic defense mechanism. I am the Wicked Witch of the West, source of all evil in Oz- the scapegoat, I think, remembering Dr. Dillamond's lessons.

"Hear me out, I never meant to harm you," the Wizard says lamely. Oh, that's rich.

"Well, you have, you have harmed me," I tell him. My head is throbbing and I am on the edge of tears. I can't help it. How dare he? How could he stand there having done this to me- taken my friend, my love, my LIFE from me- and tell me he didn't _mean _it. Too damn bad, it happened whether he meant it or not, and he did it.

"I realize that, and I regret it, Elphaba." Well, I don't care how much he regrets it.

"I'm setting these monkeys free and don't try to interfere, or call the guards," I tell him. At least once they're free I'll have redeemed some small part of that mistake- maybe even have someone to talk to, even if they never learn to talk back…God, I'm pathetic.

"I'm not calling anyone. The truth is, I'm glad you're here. I get pretty lonely, and I know you must get lonely too."

What is he, reading my mind? I shudder involuntarily, and even though he's right, I shoot off my mouth.

"You don't know the first thing about me," I say tightly.

"Oh, but I do. I do know you. I can't explain it exactly, you know what I mean? Elphaba- you've been so strong through all of this. Aren't you tired of being the strong one? Wouldn't you like someone to take care of you?"

_Oh, yes, yes, more than anything_. I am just so tired, so tired of fighting so hard, of looking over my shoulder every second in case some Gale Force guard catches sight of me…

"Please, help me start again," says the Wizard. But you can't just go back in time.

"Don't you think I wish I could? That I could go back to the time when I really believed you were wonderful? The Wonderful Wizard of Oz," I say sarcastically, bitterly. "Nobody believed in you more than I did, _nobody_!" I cry, angrily. "I thought you could fix everything…thought you could help me fit in, make everyone in Oz love me, or at least accept me…but you've made it worse! Everyone hates me! Nobody has touched me- no one so much as brushed up against me accidentally- in three years! I'm twenty-one years old! I was in love! I had a best friend! My sister at least didn't hate me! I had school, I had a _life_- and now look at me!" I am hysterical, crying and screaming, and it feel so good just to be _loud_, to make _noise_!

"You told me you loved making people happy!" I yell. "Despite being green, I _was _happy! For the first time, I was happy, and you destroyed it!" I can't stand up anymore. I collapse to my knees, sobbing.

"I can't fight you anymore," I whisper.


	2. Integrity

A/N: It's midnight, but my computer won't shut up making noises so I can't sleep anyhow.

Disclaimer: Not mine, some of the dialogue either, but I think just part of when Fiyero's in there with the guard peoples isn't mine.

"Does that mean you'll join me?" the Wizard asks. I look up from my crouched position. I _am _pathetic.

"Maybe," I whisper. I'm not entirely out of myself yet.

"Elphaba, you could have your old life back- better! You'd be beloved by all of Oz, and so would I. Imagine- the Wicked Witch had a change of heart and joined the benevolent Wizard in his quest against evil."

Would he be offended if I threw up? "Elphaba, you'll be celebrated, wonderful- there'll be celebrations throughout Oz, all to do with you!"

I close my eyes, and immediately all sorts of crazy thoughts condense in my head. I try my best, in my befuddled, sleep-deprived, state, to weigh this choice. I've worked against the Wizard for three years and only caused pain and heartache. What is there to lose?

_Integrity. Loyalty. Conscience. Yourself. _ Oh, shut up, inner voice! I'm too tired to listen to you right now!

Probably unfortunately, my inner voice obeys.

"I- I guess so," I manage tremulously. I hate myself. I am not this weak. I am better than this! Come _on_, Elphaba, get _up_! I struggle to my feet. Oh, God, I need to sleep. _Elphaba, don't just agree to this, _some fragment of intelligence tells me. _You have control of this situation. _I mentally snort. _Fine, some control. A modicum. Use it! _

"I'll join you, on one condition," I say.

"What?"

"Free the monkeys. All of them."

"Oh, all right," says the Wizard, like a kindly old uncle pretending to begrudge a favorite niece's request, when really he is delighted to grant it. My head hurts even more. He is the enemy…but he's so kind…that voice is so soothing…he could be like my father…I could just relax and let go and let him take care of everything…

"Elphaba, you can go ahead and let them out," he says, and I find myself obeying. This worries me, but since it's what I was going to do anyway, I don't resist. I open cages, pull off sheets and blankets, until-

"Dr. Dillamond?" I gasp in horror as the professor stumbles out from beneath the sheet I've just pulled and falls. I drop to my knees beside him, and he draws away as if in fear…of me…

"Dr. Dillamond, don't you remember me? It's me, Elphaba…" He shies away, and I can't help it, but I'm crying again.

"Dr. Dillamond- can't you- can't you speak?"

He baahs at me. My head drops into my hands, my shoulders heave with more tears than could possibly be contained in my body. Dr. Dillamond pulls himself up and runs off.

"Elphaba, you have to understand, we couldn't continue to let him speak out," says the Wizard. Suddenly, electricity seems to fill me, to revive me. I stand slowly, every pore of me exuding hatred for him. _He _is the monstrosity! _Not me. _

"I am _nothing _like you, and I _never _will be, and I will _fight _you until the day I _die_!" I scream at him. I try to run, but something holds me in place.

"Guards!" screams the Wizard from behind his great mask, and they pour into the room. Fiyero is at their head.

"Fiyero," I gasp.

"You," he says, without emotion. "I don't believe it."

"Fiyero, I-"

"_Silence, witch!_" he screams at me. My stomach twists, I duck my head. I cannot look at him. How can they have fooled even him so thoroughly? Does Glinda believe their lies too? Does she hate me, as well? Is this fight worth fighting at all?


	3. Fiyero

A/N: Ok, another chapter. This one deviates from the story at the end, but up till then, most of the dialogue is still taken from or paraphrased from the play.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Oh, brother, you stupid computer, shut up about your stupid firewall or I'll turn you into scrap.

"Fiyero," I try, pleading.

"I said, _silence_!" he hisses. I draw back, half in fear, half in pain. "Your Ozness, are you all right?" he asks.

If I hear that title once more, I swear I'll be sick.

"Of course," booms the great head, as if he had power, as if it were preposterous that I could ever do anything to him. I _could_. I _should_. Another guard enters the room.

"Sir, there's a goat on the lam," he tells Fiyero seriously. I'd laugh if this all weren't so horrible. I could cackle, scare them a bit. I _can _do a very creepy laugh.

"Forget that," Fiyero tells the guard. I can see him thinking, planning something. I don't want to know what. I want to die, rather than hear the hatred and fear in the voice of another friend or see the revulsion of me in their eyes.

"Get me some water," says Fiyero.

_Water? Like, a glass of water, to drink_? I think. The guard, apparently, is also confused.

"Water, sir?" he asks.

"Yes, buckets of it, as many as all of you can carry. Now, go!" What is he going to do with it? Drown me like a kitten?

The guards are gone. Fiyero, the Wizard, and I are the only ones left in this ice-cold room. I weigh my options. I could run…but I know they would catch me. But…

Fiyero points his silver rifle at the great Oz-head.

"No, no!" screams the Wizard, running out. Fiyero doesn't blink at this, Glinda must have told him the truth.

"Be _quiet_, your Ozness, unless you want everyone in that ballroom to know _exactly_ what you are. Elphaba, _go_, I'll find Dr. Dillamond later." My knees nearly buckle, and I realize I've been holding my breath. I let air fill my lungs.

"Fiyero, you frightened me! I thought that you had…that you were…that you had changed."

"But, Elphaba, I have changed. Just not the way you thought."

"You acted like you hated me!" I cry. It is a meager expression of what I felt.

"I could _never_ hate you!" he tells me forcefully, grabbing my hand. The air itself is still. For a moment, I think he is going to kiss me. But then Glinda runs in, breaking the spell, and Fiyero lets go of my hand.

"What is going _on_ in here? Elphie? You're alive, oh, thank Oz!"

"Actually, he tried to end that whole me-being-alive thing," I can't resist throwing in.

"But you should go, Elphie, you shouldn't be here. They'll discoverate you," Glinda goes on, undaunted.

"Glinda," says Fiyero in an odd voice, "you should go." Glinda notices just who Fiyero's rifle is pointed at.

"What are you-"

"Just go back to the ball!" Glinda looks panicky. She begins to babble at the Wizard.

"Your Ozness, he means no disrespectation. Please, understand, we all went to school together…"

"Elphaba! _Go!_" Fiyero hisses at me, grabbing my hand again. Glinda sees.

"Fiyero! Have you misplaced your mind?" I can't move, my feet aren't obeying my brain. Fiyero nudges me, begins to pull me forward a bit.

"What are you doing?" Glinda cries.

"I'm going with her," Fiyero declares.

"What? You mean…all this time? The two of you…behind my back?" No, that's not right, she can't think that.

"No, Glinda, it wasn't like that!" I plead. I can't lose her, not again. But her face is carved from stone.

"Actually, it was," says Fiyero. We both glare at him. "But then, it wasn't," he amends. "Elphaba, come _on_, we've got to get out of here, before my guards come back!"

"I really don't think so," says the Wizard. He throws something on the floor. Almost immediately, both my mind and my limbs grow heavy and fogged.

"Wha-" I manage. Glinda and the Wizard seem unaffected.

"What is that stuff?" asks Glinda.

"Extract of poppies, and some other things," says the Wizard. "Madame Morrible gave it to me."

I try so hard to use my power. Of course it doesn't come.

"Fiyero," I try to say.

"I- I got you," he tells me. I am falling, falling, falling. Funny thing, I just realized it and I'm halfway to the floor. Fiyero catches me, for a moment, but the potion hits him, too, and he falls, and we tumble to the floor and it all goes dark.


	4. Water is Your Friend

A/N: Sorry I haven't written anything in so long. Evil school took over my life. And we have a seven-week, gigundo, evil, horrific, demoniac project of _epic _proportions. On the Odyssey. I hate hate hate this project…

Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked. But if Gregory Maguire can make tons of money off what is basically a gigantic fanfiction, I can write one for fun!

I come back to myself slowly, awareness returning in small pieces. Something soft is underneath me…a blanket is covering me…slowly, I open my eyes. Ouch. Bad plan. I flip over and groan. No going back to sleep for me. I turn back over and sit up as quickly as possible. Again, bad plan. My head pounds. What the _hell _was in that stuff the Wizard threw at us?

Us.

Fiyero…where is he? I look around the room. Ah, there he is. He's in a bed, too, across the room. The walls are white, the floor is tiled. It doesn't _look _like a prison cell. Where _are _we? Fiyero is awake, sitting on the bed. He smiles at me.

"I feel like someone ran over me with a _house_," I moan.

"Welcome to the world of the hangover," he tells me.

"It's not a hangover. It's from the Wizard knocking us out with those herbs, or whatever," I contradict.

"Same difference."

"Not really. This was in no way our fault."

"Point taken." He looks at me with interest. "Have you really never been hungover before?"

"I've never even had a drink," I tell him, honestly.

"Whoa."

"What? Not all of us are constantly at wild parties, you know," I say. _Some of us aren't invited, _I think. And he knows, I can tell.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I have full possession of each and every brain cell."

"Good one."

"Why, thank you."

We look at each other and laugh, and I feel the stress and tension in the air dissipate, as if by magic.

"So, Miss Witch, can you tell me where we are?"

"At this moment, Fiyero, I couldn't tell you what year it is."

"Yet you have full possession of your _sarcasm _faculties, I see."

"Oh, of course. When don't I?"

"Good question." His face softens. "You don't need to use that armor with me, you know."

I flush a deeper green. I can feel my cheeks burning. I pretend misunderstanding.

"What armor?"

"Elphaba, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That sarcasm."

"I know."

"You don't need it with me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Of course you aren't. I'll turn you into a toad."

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry…it's just…all my life, whenever my father would demonstrate just how little he loved me in comparison to Nessa, it was all I had to keep my heart from breaking." I look up at him. My face is on fire. "When- when nobody loves you- you have to-to pretend you don't care…and maybe you can fool yourself…then it doesn't hurt so much…" I start to cry, involuntarily. Even through my blurred eyes, I can see Fiyero breathe a sigh…of relief?

"What was that for?"

"What?"

"That sigh!"

"Oh…" he looks guilty.

"_What_?"

"Well, you see…some people were talking, you know, the way people do, and I didn't believe them…but it's nice to see proof…"

"What did they say?" He looks down. "Fiyero?"

"That…your soul was so unclean…water could melt you."

"People are idiots…" But even still…"Never underestimate your enemy."

"What?"

I'm smiling. "We can use that, Fiyero, to get out of here."

"But how?" he asks, and I am about to tell him when the door creaks open slowly.


	5. Use the Magic Words

A/N: Ok, chapter 4. Also, for explanations of any of my references, ask in a review or send a private message. And one more thing. This chapter will be in two installments because the dumb computer wasn't letting me upload the whole thing at once.

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

A group of guards were at the door. They pulled us away. I was kicking and screaming. Fiyero just sat there like a deadweight and they had a harder time with him, overall, although I did manage to land several sharp-booted kicks where the sun don't shine, if you catch my drift. Perhaps it was a good thing Father never gave me delicate little shoes. They wouldn't have hurt nearly so much. But now we are here, somewhere else deeply ensconced in…wherever this is, although I now believe we're still in the palace, in the most exquisite cruelty imaginable to me: there are two cells. Three walls of each are cement. But the one dividing the two is soundproof glass. I am on one side, and Fiyero is on the other. We can see each other, but we cannot hear or touch.

Bamboo slivers, electric shock, and Chinese water torture I can deal with and even toss in a witty comment between jabs, shocks, or drops, but this?

A guard slams the door shut.

"Yeah, hi," I say to him. "Um, do you have any intention of letting us out anytime soon, because seriously, I do believe I left my oven on and-"

"As soon as you read a spell for the Wizard," he says.

"Has he not heard of the magic words?" I pun. The guard doesn't get it. "I mean, you'd think they could find someone who didn't evidently fail sharing time in preschool to run the country, but no." I can see Fiyero rolling his eyes at me and motioning for me to shut my mouth. I sigh. "What kind of spell?" I ask wearily.

"One granting his armies extraordinary strength and immortality from battle wounds," the guard replies excitedly.

"Let me see…would I rather fight against regular soldiers, or super-strong immortal soldiers?" I say. "I'm going to have to go with the second one."

"Is that a no?" asks the guard.

"_Yes_," I moan exasperatedly.

"So you'll do it?" he asks, apparently not getting it.

"NO!"

"I'm confused."

"No, I will not do it. Now go away and leave me with my dignity, what little of it I have left," I say. The guard looks confused again, but he starts walking down the hall.

"And no man is as wretched as Oedipus!" I howl after him. He starts running, and I simply cannot resist. I cackle loudly. Freaking people out…the upside of being Public Enemy # 1. But now…

I press my nose against the glass. Ow. I move it so that just its jutting point touches the cold glass. Damn, and it's really cold. _Cold…hmm,_ I think. I breathe on the glass. _I love you_, I write in the foggy space. Okay, so this room must be seriously cold. But I can't feel it; I am too focused on Fiyero. Did the glass not separate us, our palms would be touching, so too our faces. We are greedy and giddy with the nearness of one another, pressing our whole selves up against the glass, warming it, and conveying with our eyes words we could not say even out of this prison. We stand like this for what seems like an eternity, and it is not enough, but eventually the guard returns and an idea slowly forms in my head.

_Don't freak out…just follow my lead, ok? _I mouth, and I'm pretty sure he gets it. He nods, anyhow. I break slowly, painfully away from the glass and stride over to the guard.

"I've reconsidered," I say briskly. "Now, you'll let us go free if I read this spell for the Wonderful Wizard, who in addition to lacking the capability to say the word 'please,' apparently also cannot read?"

"Yes…and shut up," he says.

"But then however shall I cast this spell?" I ask innocently. He groans, unlocks the door, and drags me out. "Fiyero comes too," I say.

"No."

"No Fiyero, no spell," I say. I watch the struggle in his face. Immortality wins. He's no Odysseus, apparently. He reluctantly unlocks Fiyero's door and handcuffs both of our hands in front of us. Yanking us forward, he pulls us through a winding route back to the throne room.

"Welcome to the kingdom of an unenlightened despot," I mutter to Fiyero.

"Elphaba, I love you and your defense mechanisms dearly, but try not to get us both killed with them, okay?" he replies. "And…you aren't _really _going to read this spell, are you?"

"Of course not!" I cry, offended.

"What are you going to read?" he asks.

"You'll see," I say, smiling wickedly and then hiding my face behind my hair so that the guard can't see me nearly laughing. Then, I get yet another idea. In a low voice, I begin talking with the guard.

"You know, locking a witch up really serves no purpose," I tell him quietly. "I hold all the cards here. I could be gone in a puff of smoke, any second, and Fiyero with me…and you too, but the difference would be, Fiyero and I would reappear somewhere else, and you," I pause dramatically and cackle, "well, you wouldn't reappear at all, dearie."

He shudders. I fall back into step with Fiyero and laugh genuinely.

"You're shameless."

"You wish."

"Quite true."

A herald steps out and blows a few notes into his trumpet.

"The Wizard will see you now," he says grandly.


	6. Cackling Hurts the Throat

**Installment 2**

"Well, aren't we lucky," I say loudly. Fiyero elbows me. "I'm indispensable, Fiyero," I remind him, "and if they want me to do anything, so are you." The great head- the Wizard's defense mechanism, I guess…his crutch…begins to bellow.

"Read the spell," it trumpets, and a guard brings the Grimmerie forward, open to the intended page. I guess they took it when they knocked me out. I carefully note my broomstick, still leaned against the wall. This will be fun. Surreptitiously, I flip the page. There we are.

"_Ah ben Ah kev Ah day ra tay vay o din mei lay vay a ta say!_" I cry dramatically, and then cackle again. That's fun, but it's really starting to hurt my throat. Can't ask for a glass of water, either, or I'd get put on suicide watch. Damnable rumors.

"Why isn't anything happening?" Fiyero whispers.

"It will," I say back, " as soon as we're out of here."

"Well," I say to the Wizard. "That's done. Have fun. And good day."

"What makes you think you're leaving?" he asks. I tuck the Grimmerie under my shoulder and mutter all the words of the levitation spell less one.

"This does," I say, and cry out the last word. The handcuffs clang loudly to the floor and the broom leaps to my hand. Fiyero and I both climb upon it, and we're already five feet up in the air before the guards come out of shock and react.

"Ta-ta, dears," I say, "don't forget to write…that is, of course, if you manage to find me!"

I turn to the broom. "Okay, go, go, go, go, go, faster, before the other spell starts working," I mutter. We start flying down the hallway, really, really, fast. We accidentally hit two guards and a janitor.

"Sorry!" I yell. "Escape in progress, out of the way, let's move, come on!" Finally, I see an open window.

"Okay, there we are, now DUCK FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" I scream, realizing how small the window is, but we make it.

As we rise into the sky, headed west, we hear screams from the palace behind us.

"What _did _you do to them?" Fiyero asks.

"Well, let's just say, I don't think they'll be walking normally for a while," I say.

Fiyero groans.

"Elphaba," he says, "That's just…"

"Wicked?" I laugh. "Yeah, I know."

"Wasn't kicking three of them enough?"

"No."

"Psycho."

"Moron."

We kiss and the broom veers off and down.

"Yeah, okay," I tell it, "lesson learned. Sheesh."


	7. You're Beautiful

A/N: Here we go for a really long chapter…also, this chapter is most definitely rated T, so, be advised… And…the end paraphrases some play dialogue. Also, I borrow a couple pseudonyms/names from Mr. Maguire…hee hee hee.

Disclaimer: It isn't mine, but I still maintain that if Gregory Maguire gets to publish _his_ gigantic fanfiction…ah well.

_We hadn't planned for what happened next. I guess you could say the broom did it…somehow…Okay, see, it may be my fault that the thing can fly, but the way it often seems to have a mind of its own still freaks me out quite a bit. _

The broom unceremoniously dumps us on the ground just down the hill from a small building, leans itself against a tree, and refuses to move.

"Thanks," I tell it. "Thanks a _lot_."

"I didn't think that thing _really _had a mind of its own," says Fiyero. "I thought you were just talking to it cause you're, well, you know, you."

"Thanks," I repeat, this time to him, "thank _you _a lot."

"Whatever did you do to it?"

"A levitation spell! That's all!"

Fiyero stares at the thing. "Odd," he pronounces.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Says the captain of the guard who just broke out of prison on the 'odd' broom with the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Says the Wicked Witch of the West," Fiyero adds.

"Good point."

"Well, since the thing _did _get us out of there-" Fiyero begins.

"Hey, I believe I had just a _bit _to do with that!" I interject.

"Yes…you got us in there."

"I got _me _in there. You, sir, got yourself into it."

"So you want me to leave?"

"No!"

It breaks the lovely, crystalline silence of the wood we're at the edge of with its unintended vehemence.

"You were saying? About the broom?" I add quietly, for once glad I'm green, for were I not I'm sure my face would be redder than the scarlet sky of sunset. Dark green is much less noticeable.

"Let's see what's here that the broom evidently wants us to look at," Fiyero finishes. I sneak a sideways glance at his face as we begin to climb, illuminated starkly against the full amber moon. He's so beautiful, and I'm just…not.

We hike up the hill together, my cape drawn up to shadow my face, although what with the deepening shadows of the summer night and the forest around us it's probably not even necessary. Just as I'm thinking this, Fiyero turns and looks at me.

"What?" I say. It probably comes out a bit hostile, I don't mean it to.

"It's just…" he seems to be struggling with two things…and he chooses the lesser…I don't know, I don't know why I'd think I would know…

"You know, you don't look green right now," he tells me, but then, halfway up the hill, he turns, pulls off my hood, and kisses me.

When we finally pull apart, reluctantly, I nearly fall over, and he catches me by the forearms and gently pulls my cape back over my face.

"I like you better green," he says.

"Well, good, because…because…you don't really get a choice," I manage. He smiles and half pulls me, since at the moment I'm dreamy and useless, the rest of the way up the hill.

"Whoa," I breathe upon seeing what lies on the hilltop. A beautiful chapel lies, bathed in lustrous silver moonlight, warm light pouring from its windows, half-hidden in a grove of trees, the tall imported Quoxwood trees standing tall, strange, and exotic among the native Ozian boughs. I breathe deep, cool, pine-scented night air filling my lungs to their capacity.

"Why do you think the broom wanted us to see this?" I whisper.

"Oh, Elphie, for someone so smart, you can certainly be thick," he whispers back.

"What?" I could not be more confused right now. Maybe it's lack of sleep, maybe it's love…maybe someone just needs to tell me what is going on.

Laughing, Fiyero takes my hand and pulls me toward the chapel.

Should love make you this confused? Because if so, maybe I was better off…nah.

Fiyero is about to knock on the big, heavy, richly carved mahogany doors when I tear his hand away from the golden knocker.

"What are we doing?" I cry.

"Elphaba," he tells me, "it's a wedding chapel."

That one takes me a moment.

"Like…white dress, and tuxedo, and nausea-inducing floral smells, and crowds and gross sandwiches?" I say.

"Well…sort of…"

"But who…" I start. Then it hits me. "Oh…"

"Well, were you even going to ask me? Because I don't really go in for the whole old-fashioned arranged marriage thing, it's really-" He puts a finger to my lips. And then goes down on one knee.

"Elphaba Thropp," he says, "my dear, brilliant, thick, lovely green witch, will you marry me?"

"Yes," I say. Then something dawns on me. "Um, Fiyero, we really can't get married here."

"Why not?" he asks, looking worried.

"Well, getting legally married requires using our real names, and at the moment, well…" I trail off.

"Well…don't worry..."

"And another thing, there are going to be lights in there, you know, and I may have trouble conjuring up a believable seasickness excuse, considering that we're miles from any water, even a puddle, and seasickness doesn't generally make people look green anyway! Where does that even _come _from?"

Then I think about seasickness, greenness, water, and me, and crack up. I mean seriously scary, insane, witch cackling here.

"Elphaba! Elphaba, _calm down_. What the hell is up with you?"

_Breathe. Just breathe. _

Finally, I manage to direct sufficient oxygen to my brain in order for it to function relatively normally again, and I sit down, leaning against the chapel door. Fiyero plops down beside me.

"Sorry," I say, "something just comes over me sometimes."

"Are you all right? Are you sure you want to do this? I think I've got a plan."

I look straight into his eyes. They are midnight blue, and beautiful, and they are true.

"I'm sure," I say firmly, and I am.

"Do you, Fae, take this man, Yero, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness as in health, till death do you part?"

"I do." My stomach is flipping too much for me to think right now.

"And do you, Yero, take this woman, Fae, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness as in health, till death do you part?"

"No," says Fiyero. The priest and I stare at him in shock. "Death isn't going to part us," Fiyero says, staring at me intensely.

"No," I whisper, "knowing us, Death doesn't stand a chance."

"Sir," interrupts the priest, "I need you to say the proper-"

"I do, completely and forever, I do." says Fiyero.

"Well then, I pronounce you man and wife!"

"Good to know I'm a man," Fiyero says, "because up till now, I just wasn't quite sure."

"You know, I've always wondered about that too," I add. "Is husband too many syllables or something?"

The priest looks like we give him a migraine. "You may kiss the bride now," he says, and I could swear I hear him add, "if only to shut her up."

Fiyero doesn't throw the veil we borrowed from the chapel over my head; that would reveal how green with, um, nervousness I am. Instead, he puts his head beneath it too, and kisses me forever in our own secret world of white lace.

"I love you," I tell him.

"I know," he says.

Just as planned, we sign our names- our real names- to the marriage certificate.

Elphaba Thropp and Fiyero Tiggular. The priest glances at it, and I see his eyes go wide.

"Got to go," Fiyero says quickly.

"Thank you," I add politely. Shattering stereotypes is fun! I pull off the veil and the poor man's eyes get even wider.

"But you're- you're-"

"Married?" I supply. "I know, isn't it wonderful?" I yell over my shoulder as we dash out the door. We tumble, twined together, down the hill, the sweet rich earth and leaves and golden pine needles our marriage bed. The broom we hide behind a tree, abashed almost, in front of it.

My blood covers the leaves, and I admire it, a crimson flower blooming, red as the hot sun at the beginning of time. We cover ourselves, after, in the cloak, and in leaves, too, and huddle together. We stare at the white-hot stars, brilliant diamonds against a sky the color of Fiyero's eyes.

"You're beautiful," Fiyero says. I turn my face away.

"Don't lie."

"It's _not_ lying, Elphaba," he tells me fiercely. He sees in the stiff set of my shoulders that I won't accept it. "It's looking at things another way."

I soften, I can't help it. A tear winds its coursing way down the plane of my cheek, because no one's ever called me beautiful before. And aren't fathers supposed to tell their daughters that they're absolutely beautiful, when they're young enough to believe it, when they're old enough to be embarrassed, when life has taught them that it's true or that it's false, isn't that what fathers say, no matter what? He always told Nessa…

_Nessa. _

"Nessa! Something's wrong with Nessa!" I am up and pulling on my dress and babbling something about houses and cyclones and I don't even know where the hell these words are coming from.

"What? How do you know?" Fiyero asks, yanking on his pants and slipping into his shirt.

"I don't know…Can't you see that?"

"What? Elphaba, what's wrong? What do you see?"

"This makes no sense! It's a house, but it's flying through the air! Nessa… she needs me…I have to help her…I'm responsible…"

"I'll come with you!" cries Fiyero.

_No, _my heart whispers, _no. _I've learned to listen to it. Mostly.

"No, you mustn't, it's too dangerous!"

"Listen, Elphaba, look at me. My family's castle in Kiamo Ko, no one lives there, except for the sentries who guard it."

"But…" I'm confused again. "Where do you live?"

"In the other castle." Oh. Of course.

"But listen," he goes on, "Kiamo Ko is the perfect hiding place. There's trapdoors, tunnels, secret passageways…you'll be safe there."

Something in the way he says that bothers me. "You'll be safe there," not "we'll be safe there."

"We will see each other again, won't we?" I ask insecurely. I admit it, I _am _insecure with people, especially the people I love. I still cannot believe any of this, here, with Fiyero, actually happened, but then he makes me believe it. He grips my hands, stares into my eyes, forces me back to reality…this is _real. This _is real.

"Elphaba," he says forcefully, "we are going to be together, _always_. You can see houses flying through the air, can't you see that, my crazy witch?" I smile, and slowly, carefully, so as not to shatter this delicate perfection, nod. He pulls me in, and we kiss. Even after the kiss ends, we stay like that, holding each other, for forever condensed into a single moment over far too soon. Agonizingly, I pull myself away, clinging to his hands until the last possible moment before letting go and running off. I don't look back.


	8. Into the Woods

**A/N: I'm writing another chapter, between writing a monologue for auditions, memorizing one for Theatre Arts, and researching Marilyn Monroe (don't ask). Also, I'm ignoring the timeline of who Dorothy meets up with when, mainly because, well, I can. Plus I happen to think L. Frank Baum was an unreliable narrator, and his version of events not entirely logical (I mean, how dumb is Dorothy? "Kill the Wicked Witch." "Why?" "Because, she's wicked because I say so.") Yeah. So what, Mr. Wizard? You seem to be under the mistaken impression that we _care_ what you think. **

**Disclaimer: sobs It's not mine! Waaaah!**

I run through the forests of the night, a green nimble shadow clothed in black among countless other such shadows; among trees and bushes, green is predominant, and they are clothed in Night. As a child running rather wild, although none at home cared, through the forests of Munchkinland, I loved the _aloneness_ of it. It was just me, Elphaba, and unsure of just who that was all alone. When I wasn't the "other daughter" of the governor of Munchkinland, not the sister of poor dear "tragically beautiful" Nessarose, not the girl whose mother was dead and whose sister was broken and whose fault it was, not the "freak" or "elf" or "weird green girl," not defined in terms of others or in others' terms for me, just Elphaba, alone, who was smart and sarcastic and self-reliant, and maybe just a little bit beautiful, in her way, beautiful in the way of strange flowers and exotic creatures, but it didn't even matter because so far off the country's lone road there was no one to see me but me. And I loved that.

But now, now I had gotten my fill of aloneness for three long years, and now I was full with, yet ever thirsting for, the waterfall of touch and of love and of togetherness I had just discovered, where I was not defined in terms of others or in others' terms from me but one, and that was Elphaba, who is loved truly and forever by Fiyero, and for him it is the same, no longer a prince or a slacker or Glinda's fiancé but only Fiyero, who is loved truly and forever by Elphaba. Or, you know, instead you could just say "Elphaba's husband," and "Fiyero's wife." That worked too.

So I ran, an ache starting in my legs but the good kind of ache you got from running far and fast, just a few feet off the Yellow Brick Road, nearly to Munchkinland, where mother and father and now was it to be Nessa too, lying cold and dead, when I saw them.

An odd duo they make, Boq in his new state and a girl I have never before seen. Instinctively, I duck behind a tree. The last time Boq saw me, he was none too pleased, and that was before the combined powers of the Thropp sisters, albeit accidentally, turned him into a heartless man of tin. As for the girl, well, she looks ordinary enough, dark brown hair in ridiculous pigtails, a blue and white dress with odd, puffy sleeves, sleeves like Glinda might wear if she ever visited a farm, along with a hoopskirt- designer pig slopping, I think, and barely resist the impulse to laugh. But then I catch sight of her eyes. Dark brown and fathomless, they hold as much pain as, well- mine. And maybe she sees me, maybe she doesn't, but whoever she is, whatever she's been through, she keeps going. And so do I.

After they are gone, I start sprinting, for I am only a few moments away. I take the shortcut, veering away from the road, and within seconds, catch sight of the house I saw in my vision…atop a pair of stick-thin, atrophied legs culminating in feet in the same kind of stockings she's worn since she was five and in love with stripes of all kinds, because she wanted to be a zebra when she grew up.

_Nessie. _


	9. Glinda Dearest

**A/N: Sorry I left this story so long…I will now proceed to proceed. Okay. Yeah. Oh, also, I'm going to be changing my penname to elphabathedelirious32, and if that's taken or whatever, fabalafae32. So, check under those…or you could just search the story title…yeah…**

**Disclaimer: It isn't mine. And some of this is taken right out of the play. **

I close my eyes and fall back against a tree. _No. Nonononononono. _My head is spinning as fast as that cyclone I saw in my head. But then, I hear a bubbly voice saying my sister's name, and it jolts me back to reality, which is a nice name for the cold hard place where my family is dead and it's all my fault. Or maybe not quite. _A cyclone?_ I think…_Cyclones don't just…appear, do they? Madame Morrible must have done this. It's not cyclone season…But still, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in Fiyero, in my own happiness, maybe the vision would have come sooner. I could have been here in time. I could have…yeah, Elphaba, you could have not been born. You could have not been green. But that's not your fault. That's your parents' damn fault. It's their genes. It's them who decided to have a kid. And you know what, Father? _I scream mentally_, I didn't make Mother chew milkflowers! That was YOU_! _Maybe if you weren't so damn obsessed with appearances our freaking family would still exist! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! _I think, and I find myself yelling it.

"It's not my fault! It's not! It's yours, Father! Are you the hell _happy_ now? Precious little Nessa is _dead! You're _dead! _You're all dead! _And you're never coming back! It's just me now, do you hear? It's just _Elphaba!_"

Glinda turns from where she stands, by my sister's makeshift memorial.

"Who's there?" she calls fearfully. "There's tigers and lions and bears in that forest," she says to herself quietly.

"And witches," I answer loudly, stepping out.

Glinda trips over her own fanciful shoes and falls in a glittery heap.

"Elphie!" she says.

"What a touching display of grief," I respond, suddenly bitter.

"I don't think we have anything further to say to one another," says Glinda sniffily, turning up her nose at me like I'm a overcooked turnip. Damn it, she just makes me mad. She thinks she's so _entitled_. Well, shouldn't I be entitled to something? Just one thing? Just _once_ in my life? And all of a sudden I'm mad again, over Nessa's _stupid _shoes that I now realize Glinda must have given to the girl in the woods. _Damn it_. I raise my eyes to the sky. _You can't even give me something in death, can you, Father? _

"I wanted something to remember her by, and all that was left were those shoes, and now that _wretched _little farm girl has walked off with them." I don't know where this is coming from. I can hear myself, I'm so _angry_ I make myself want to scream. But Glinda shows no reaction. "So I'd appreciate some time, alone, with my sister," I finally say. Glinda moves away respectfully, I'll give her that. I walk up to the house and sink to my knees, my black skirts unfolding around me like flower petals.

"Nessa, please, please forgive me," I murmur, begging her, begging my father and my mother and anyone I've ever cared about because surely I've done something bad, or _not_ done something good, to everyone?

I can feel Glinda's presence at my back.

"What?" I ask coldly. She lays her cool, lily-white hand on my shoulder, where it contrasts with the black fabric of my gown and the green of my neck. I feel a sudden rise of angry jealousy in my throat, and work like mad to shove it back down.

"Elphie," says Glinda cautiously, "You mustn't blame yourself. It's dreadful, it is, to have a house fall on you, but accidents _will _happen."

Suddenly, the way that sounds, it makes me certain.

"You call this an _accident_?" I say sarcastically, rising to my full height and laughing almost insanely. I'm scaring myself. I should go crawl in a hole until I can breathe normally again.

"Yes!" insists Glinda. But then, she thinks better of it. "Well, maybe not an accident…"

"What do you call it then?" I ask harshly. Is she in on this with that…that…_viper_? No. No, she can't be, not even after what I suppose I've done to her would Glinda sink that low. She can't sink, for goodness' sake, she _floats in a bubble! _

"A regime change," says Glinda after a moment. "Caused by a bizarre and unexpected twister of fate." She giggles. I want to hit her.

"You think cyclones just appear out of the blue?" I press.

"I don't know, Elphie! I never really…"

"No, of course you _never_! You're too busy telling everyone how _wonderful_ everything is!" I cry angrily, surprised at the vehemence I keep finding in myself.

"I'm a public figure now!" she protests. "People expect me to…"

"Lie?" I supply.

"Be encouraging!" she refutes weakly. "And what exactly have _you_ been doing, besides riding around on that filthy old thing?" she asks me hotly, gesturing toward my broom. I forgot I was even carrying the thing.

"Well, we can't all come and go by bubble!" I shoot back. "Whose invention was that, the Wizard's? Of course, even if it wasn't, he'd probably still take credit for it."

_What would you ask him for, Elphaba, if you could ask anything? _

"Yes, well," says Glinda. "A lot of us are taking things that don't belong to us, aren't we?"

That raises every hackle I have. For one, damn it, Fiyero is not a _thing_. People are not _things. Animals_ are not things, either.

"Now wait just a clock tick," I protest. "I know it may be difficult for that _blissful, blonde, _'brain' of yours to comprehend that someone like him could love someone like me, but it's happened, it's real!" I don't realize how loud my voice has gotten at first. I don't know where this boiling hatred is coming from. I don't hate Glinda. What is wrong with me? But the stranger controlling my mouth keeps going, stealing my thoughts and spinning them into words. "And you can wave that ridiculous wand all you want, you can't change it! He never _belonged _to you, he doesn't love you, and he never did! He loves me!" _I don't know how or why, but he does! _

All of a sudden, there's a stinging pain flying across my face. My hand goes to my cheek. Stunned, I drop to my knees. She _slapped _me. Suddenly, this whole scene is just ridiculous. I try to laugh normally, but it comes out as a cackle, which just makes me cackle even harder. When I can manage to speak, I stand.

"Feel better?" I ask Glinda.

"Yes," she huffs.

"Good, cause so do I!" I scream, slapping her back. Then, we both go insane. Glinda whirls her wand at me, and I my broom. We fence for a moment before dropping our respective accoutrements on the ground and really going at it. Glinda is grabbing my clothes and scratching at my face, and dear God, is she trying to _bite_ me? But I am just as bad, I've lost control of myself and I'm screaming and slapping and scratching and, oh, Lord, fighting like a _girl! _I know better than this! But the truth is, I don't want to hurt Glinda. I just really want to slap her again-

-And there's guards, Gale Forcers, in their uniforms like Fiyero's, grabbing my arms and pulling me back and I'm kicking and screaming and yanking but it does no good, there's too many of them.

"Let me go!" I scream.

"Let _me_ go, I almost had her!" screams Glinda, and I realize a phalanx of guards has surrounded her, "protecting" her from me. Please.

But then one of them says, "Sorry it took us so long to get here, Miss," to Glinda, and then it hits me and I wish I _had_ hurt her worse.

"I cannot _believe_ you would sink this low! To use- no, to _cause_- my sister's _death_ as a trap to capture me? _Murderer!_" I shriek, and I start fighting like a wildcat again because I swear if I got my hands on her I would _tear _her apart.

"I never meant for this to happen, Elphie! I'm so sorry!" Glinda cries, and I realize she's sobbing. But then, suddenly, Fiyero is flying through the air above us on a vine.

"Let the green girl go!" he yells.

Remind me to kick him later for calling me that. Honestly. El-pha-ba. Three syllables. Is it really that hard?


	10. No Place Like Home

**A/N: Yeah, I haven't updated this either. Yeah, I know I suck. No, I don't care. Here you are then. Go on, read it, and don't forget to review or face the wrath of ME! Another note: NOT Gelphie. Friends can have their sentimental moments, come on now. Sadly, this is the end. I may decide otherwise later, but for now, it is. **

**Disclaimer: It may be my wrath, but Wicked isn't mine. Some of the later dialogue is taken from the play, one phrase from the book (see if you can find it!) and one from a song in the play. **

The guards exchange looks, I can tell they're not sure how to handle this. After all, Fiyero was one of their own, their leader, in fact. But the one who has taken his place as captain gets a hard look on his face and grips my arm the tighter.

"You heard me," says Fiyero. "Let her go."

"No, you traitor!" yells the new captain.

"Can I please have my blood circulation back?" I query, but get no response.

Fiyero leaps from the rope, yelling like a maniac, and pulls out a sword. The guards start fighting him, leaving just the captain holding my arm.

"Hello, witch," he says.

"Why that pleases you I don't know, it rather ought to alarm you," I say. "But nevertheless, I'm the one holding all the cards here."

"What?" he asks. I smile sweetly and kick him hard in the groin with my heavy boot. You know, I'm getting more and more thankful that I _didn't _get my sister's shoes.

"Oof!" he bends reflexively and releases me.

"You'd think they'd be wise to that trick by now," I say, and shrug.

"You little bitch," he growls.

"Ooh, we've graduated to rhyming now, is that it?" I taunt. "I'm not the one _howling _in pain here." I kick him again for good measure.

"Elphie! Some help? How's today work for you?" yells Fiyero.

I nick the guard's sword and run to help.

Who knew swordsmanship was so…awkward? I find myself nearly dropping the benighted thing at every turn. Nonetheless, my lack of proficiency and grace makes me a loose cannon of sorts, and so the guards all back away from me, apparently lacking the desire to be beheaded by an accidental (or not) freak twist of my wrist. Unfortunately, Fiyero has to back away too, and they grab him.

"Fiyero, no!" I cry, and hurl the sword over my shoulder. I ignore the shrieks from the guards and Glinda behind me, running to dodge it.

"Elphaba, go!" yells Fiyero, "Go now! There's nothing you can do if they catch you, too!" That makes sense. I don't want it to.

"I love you!" I scream, and then I run. _Dash grab broom don't stop run into the cover of the forest on the broom upwards and westwards._

How does Fiyero expect me to find his damn castle? I wonder, just as I pass a sign reading, _Kiamo Ko, This Way, Two Miles. _

Oh. That's how. Thought the Vinkus was further than this, but I'm sure not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

_You should, that's how Troy fell. _WHAT?

Honestly, I don't know what goes on in my head half the time.

When at last I arrive, I leap off of my broom and run inside. I see none of the sentries Fiyero was talking about, which is probably for the best. Time is of the essence, and explaining what the devil a green fugitive witch is doing here is _not _on my top ten list of things to do right at this moment.

Through the doors, up some stairs- I need to find a private alcove, where I won't be interrupted- pulling the Grimmerie out as I go, praying, begging anyone who's listening all the while to _please_ not let them hurt him, _please_. I find an isolated stairwell and sink down to my knees and search desperately through the Grimmerie, half of which I can't even read, desperately hoping against hope I'll find what I need- and recognize it if I do. _There! _

_Nunquam intereo_, reads the top of the spell. I close my eyes. Somehow, I know it means "Never die."

"_Eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen!_" I let the rich, full, words spill quickly, urgently, over my tongue, mentally adding my own fervent prayers- _Let his flesh not be torn, let his blood leave no stain. Though they beat him, let him feel no pain! Let his bones never break and however they try to destroy him, let him never die!_ "Please," I murmur, "let him never die."

I recite the foreign words of the spell once again, doubt and hope commingling in my heart.

"Oh, what good can this possibly do?" I sob, casting the book aside. "This might not even _be _the right spell- God only knows what mess I've created now! Nothing I ever do, no matter how noble my intentions, _ever _comes out right! All I ever wanted to do was _help_," I cry, tears pouring down my face, "but all I ever do is cause more pain!" Sobbing hard, I collapse into a broken heap.

A few hours later, I awaken. I cannot _believe _I fell asleep! My husband is probably _dead_, all because of me, and if he's not, I'm his only chance for survival (he's doomed) and I _fall asleep_? What kind of a person _am_ I?

Suddenly, I hear noise from downstairs.

"Hullo? Is anyone _here_? I'm supposed to find the _Wicked Witch of the West-_"

"Could you_ not_ say that?" asks a voice that sounds just like Fiyero's. _No_. I'm hallucinatory with grief, that's it.

"Why?" asks the first voice, a young girl's.

"Just humor a straw idiot, would you?" says the Fiyero-voice.

"All right, Scarecrow, I suppose."

"I- I'm terrified of witches, Dorothy," warbles a third voice.

"You're scared of everything!" another faintly familiar voice. Not like Fiyero's, this one, but who?

"And you're heartless!" cries the scared voice.

"Oh, Lion, it's all right," the girl's voice answers. "Go on over there and wait, all of you. If I'm not back in a moment- come and rescue me, or what's left- and Toto, save him too if you can!"

Oh, please. That's just sickening, as if I could kill anyone if I _wanted _to. And I don't even know this girl, whyever is she afraid of me?

_The Wizard, damn him. Glinda? Her, too? Morrible? _

I pull myself out of my broken muddle of self-pity and stand; I can play the coldhearted, haughty viper when it's required of me, after all, I was a student of Madame Morrible's once. The girl steps into the room, and I recognize her: The girl from the woods. Dorothy, they called her. And that means Boq, his was the other voice I recognized. Maybe that one, that straw man, really _did _sound like Fiyero…_no, Elphaba! You can't think about that now, focus on the moment or you'll break down again! _

I've found one snatch of happiness again, and again the Wizard has snatched it away. But now. Dorothy.

Clear-eyed and straight-spined, she stares at me.

"I'm sorry about your sister," she says.

"Oh, please, you are _not_. You probably want to kill me, too," I reply.

"No- well, I _was_ told to, but-"

"By the Wizard, I presume? Not content with killing Nessarose and Fiyero and destroying my happiness for the second time, he's got to kill me, too? Well, did he at least give you a reason, or are you really so dull as to go around killing anyone the first minute someone says to?"

Dorothy looks bewildered. She has got _no_ idea what I'm talking about. Of course, I don't either.

"He said," she stammers, "he said that you're wicked."

This bothers me not at all.

"From his point of view," I reply. This, too, appears to confuse the girl somewhat. She must be used to terms of black and white, rather than moral ambiguities.

"All I want is to go home," she says tearfully, then begins to cry. _Oh, brilliant. _

"Well, give me back those shoes, then," I improvise- maybe if I put them on and say the spell, I can save Fiyero!- "And I'll try-"

"I _can't_! They don't come off!" she cries.

_Glinda. _Sometimes, I swear…

"I just want," she sobs, "to see my Auntie Em and-" another sob- "Uncle Henry again!"

"Well then, just- just- go over there and get the damn shoes off, or something!" I yell, pointing to a corner. I can_not_ deal with this right now. She does so, still sobbing, but at least now it's slightly muffled. I run my hands through my hair, knock off my hat. I grab it and shove it firmly back on my head.

"Well, _this _is a fine kettle of fish," I mutter. Dorothy's sobs are getting louder and even _more _annoying, if that's even possible!

"Oh, for Oz's sake, _stop _crying!" I yell. "I cannot _listen _to it anymore! You want to see your Auntie Em and Uncle What's-his-face again, get those shoes the hell off of your feet!" The crying subsides, at _last_. My annoyance, however, has only grown. "Little brat," I mutter, growing progressively, irrationally, more irritated. "Takes a dead woman's shoes…must have been raised in a barn!" Suddenly, I remember, we sent the monkeys here.

"Chistery," I call, "oh, Chistery, there you are." I add as he appears. "Where are the others?" I ask, hoping to coax him to speak, but he only points. "Please, Chistery, if you don't at least try to keep speaking, you'll never-" I trail off as I catch a flash of glitter out of the corner of my eye. I turn. _Glinda._

"They're coming for you," she says quietly. I suppose she means an angry mob out to kill me, if Dorothy can't manage it. Well, I don't care; Fiyero's gone, I'm better off dead. At least then the Wizard won't have the satisfaction of snatching my happiness away anymore.

"Go away," I tell Glinda bitterly. Oh, I miss her, miss our friendship- how can I have let this rift grow so deep?

"Let the little girl go, and that poor little dog…Dodo," says Glinda. She always _did _get names wrong.

I didn't realize that thing in the girl's basket _was _a dog, to be honest. It looked more like a rodent or something. I make a _pfut _noise in response to Glinda. The girl came here herself, and she's welcome to leave, at least then I could hear myself _think!_

"I know you don't want to hear this," Glinda says. _Then don't tell me, _I think. "But someone has to say it. You're out of control! I mean, _come on! _They're just _shoes_, let it _go! _Elphaba," she says, sincerely, "you can't go on like this."

She's right, which pisses me off even more. Maybe I have PMS.

"I can do whatever I want," I say obstinately. "I'm the Wicked Witch of the freaking West!"

Another monkey approaches, bearing a letter. Oh, so _that's _where he went.

"At last," I grumble, glad for an excuse to ignore Glinda for the moment, "what took you so long?" It's probably news of Fiyero's death…"Why are you bothering me with this?" I cry, near tears, as I tear it open and read it quickly.

_Oh, thank Oz, thank God, thank everything and everyone! _

It's _from_ Fiyero.

_Dear Elphaba, _

_I haven't much time. I'm alive. I think you did a spell? You saved me. I'm _here_, in the castle. I'm 'the Scarecrow', I'll explain later. But the others- Boq, and the Lion cub we saved at Shiz- are going to want to 'save' Dorothy from you soon. There's a fireplace, it should be lit if I remember. When we get up there, get the broom lit on fire and 'threaten' me with it- but DO be careful!- and I'll get it to light your dress. Dorothy will dump water on you (she's the worst murderer in history, trust me) and if she doesn't, I will. Stand over the trapdoor, it's in the exact center of the room- six feet from the window. You see the tiny switch? Trip it with your boot heel when she dumps the water. I'll get you when it's safe. _

_Love, Fiyero_

I screw up my expression into one of grief.

"What is it?" asks Glinda, worried. "What's wrong? It's Fiyero, isn't it? Is he…"

My mind works furiously. I don't want to lie to her. "We've seen his face for the last time," I finally say. He's a Scarecrow, after all, I see how the spell could have worked that way. I only pray I'll be able to fix it!

"Oh, no!" cries Glinda. Oh, dear, I feel awful. She'll think I'm dead, think we're both dead…no one deserves that. I'll find a way to let her know. I _will_.

"You're right," I say slowly. "It's time I surrender."

I spot a bucket of water in the corner, pick it up, and place it conveniently beside the trap door.

Glinda knows me too well; she hears something in my voice, or reads my thoughts.

"Elphie," she says, "Elphie, what is it?"

If only I could tell her. My heart is breaking, but I have to go on with the plan.

"You can't be found here," I tell her urgently, "you've got to hide."

"No," says Glinda firmly. Damn, she's stubborn.

"You _must _leave," I plead.

"No, Elphie. I'll tell them everything." If only. If only it were that easy. They're giddy with hatred, swooning with anger. They won't believe even Glinda the Good.

"They'll only turn against you," I say the truth, sadly.

"I don't care!" yells Glinda, her hysteria building. Two hysterical girls, and me, too. Why is nothing in this life easy?

"I do!" I am equally insistent. "Promise me," I say, grabbing her wrists and forcing her to focus on me, "_promise _me you won't try to clear my name." She says nothing. I shake her wrists. "Promise!"

"Alright! I promise…but I don't understand," she relents.

"Glinda," I tell her, my own tears building up, "It's all up to you now. Everything I never accomplished, you can."

"Elphie, please, don't talk like that!" she cries.

"Here," I say, holding out the Grimmerie. "Go on, take it."

"Elphie…you know I can't read that…Elphie, you aren't…"

"You'll have to learn to read it, then," I say firmly, pressing it into her hands. "You're the only friend I've ever had," I tell her, the tears spilling over. "And you are the only _real _friend I've ever had," Glinda replies, crying now too.

"You'll- have to hide," I tell her through my tears. _Please put the pieces together, Glinda, I'm crying, don't you see, water doesn't really hurt me- _"No one can know you were here! Hide!"

She starts to go, turns back, hugs me tightly, and then runs off.

"Goodbye, Glinda," I say softly.

I hear them coming. The mob, in the distance, but closer, already in the room, Glinda gone just in time, Tinman Boq, the Lion we saved (who saved us, in a way, too) Fiyero the Scarecrow, and the girl Dorothy, standing and joining them. I light the broom. Fiyero, half-smiling, extends his arm, I bring the broom near it, but it gets shoved back- my dress is on fire- Dorothy pours the water- my scream is real, it's _cold_- I trip the door and fall- but I see only Glinda's stricken face.

It is a very long time of dark aloneness before I hear the faintest pounding above me, so light it's barely audible, but then, it is silent as death down here. The hatch opens.

"It worked!" Fiyero cries jubilantly as I pull myself out.

"Fiyero! I thought you'd never get here," I say, and then see the full extent of the spell for the first time. I slowly reach out towards his sack face. "Oh," I breathe.

"Go ahead, touch," he says, "I don't mind."

He sees the distress, the guilt, in my eyes, and rushes to reassure me.

"Ah, you did the best you could," he tells me gently. "You saved my life."

I touch him softly.

"You're still beautiful," I say, and he is. Right now, in fact, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

"You don't have to lie to me," he says, turning away. I turn his chin back towards me, echo his own words, "It's not lying, it's looking at things another way."

And then we are kissing, even though he is straw, and it's still wonderful, beautiful, amazing. And I will find a way to let Glinda know, and we will find somewhere to call home, and it will all be all right.

Then I realize- I don't need to find a home. I'm already there. _And there's no place like it. _


End file.
